If you hang Jack Sheppard, you'll cut off the flower o' the purfession. The proceedings of this faction were narrowly watched by a vigilant and sagacious administration. He himself, middle-aged, steeped in traditions of the City and moneymaking, very ill-skilled in all the lighter graces of life, as he himself well knew, could yet come to her invested with something of the halo of romance by the almost magical powers of an unlimited banking account. Kneebone, what with flirting with Mrs. Capes sat watching and admiring her, and then he fell praising the day and fortune and their love for each other. Well, it's scarcely credible. One post-midnight meeting, she could stand it no longer. Her husband quickly joined the fray, making her giggle and laugh. Once, when he thought he had done so, he smiled an ingratiating smile. His brows drew a little nearer together.
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